Changing Fate
by Atlantean Pineapple
Summary: Her fate was to live as a spy forever. Her fate was to serve the king in hiding. Her fate was to train Murtagh. Her fate was to serve him. But she would make her own fate.
1. The End

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

She hated the king. That is why she was there. To end him. To destroy him.

She hated the Varden. No, she did not work for them.

She hated the group of spies, the Thornessa Sverdar, which raised her and trained her to be what she was.

But none of them really mattered.

Only he mattered now.

The king, the Varden, the Thornessa Sverdar, they were all small specks in her life. Hindrances and thorns. Nothing important. Not like him.

The king did not even know of her continued existence. And now, when he was weakest, he would die at her hand.


	2. Murtagh's Escape

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

Author's Note: I have completely rewritten this from this chapter on. Please let me know if you like it better or think I should keep it the way it was. 

_Here's to the strong; thanks to the brave.  
Don't give up hope... some people change.  
Against all odds, against the grain,  
Love finds a way... some people change._

Some People Change by Montgomery Gentry

The corridor was lined with flickering torches that lent little light. The few spaced windows let in only darkness, deep and think. Misery and despair seeped through the gray stone blocks of the wall. Every room was as silent as a tomb; every room, but one.

High in a dreary, loveless tower that cut into the sky, muffled sounds came from behind a closed wooden door. In the room beyond the large door, a pale figure rummaged through misplaced trunks for items that only he knew the purpose of. As he leaned over the narrow bed, made and ready for the night, and placed these particular items of clothing and weaponry in their assigned sheathes or pack, his shadowy black hair fell into his youthful and handsome face. The young man was tall and muscled from years of hard training with both sword and bow. Alas, most details of his figure were distorted and hidden by the long, black cloak clasped clumsily about his shoulders.

After securing his sword belt under his cloak and his quiver on top of the material, he slung his curved bow over his shoulder. He kept to the shadows as he moved near silently through the halls. The closer to the ground he became, the more butterflies thrashed in his stomach.

If possible, the courtyard was even gloomier than the ominous castle's interior. Slithering shadows loomed in the corners, seemingly alive. The stone underfoot felt cold, even through the soft leather boots the few passing humans wore. Turning to a hidden path, he froze, for a large figure bearing a crackling torch was heading toward him. The mysterious youth leapt into the shadows, pulling his cape to cover the slightly glowing skin of his face, leaving only his eyes visible. The other, a half asleep watchman, passed by with nothing but a long yawn. When the guard was out of sight, the dark-haired man slipped onto the deserted path to the stables, where he hooted twice, as if he were an owl.

One shadow dancing against the small building separated itself from its comrades and repeated the call. The man that clasped the young man's arm in a quick embrace was a good twenty years older. Together, they quietly walked a few yards from the stable, where a large, dark warhorse waited. The older man passed his companion two long strips of cloth, keeping two for himself. They knelt, one at the front and one to the back of the great beast. They lifted its hooves one by one and tied the clothes around them for quieter passage.

The cloaked young man climbed quickly into the readied saddle, while the older man took the reigns and began leading the horse. Neither spoke. When they approached the two tall watchtowers and gigantic iron gates, they pulled hoods over their heads. The gate had creaked open only slightly when it stopped again. The rider nudged the horse forward. The crack between the twin iron masses was just wide enough for the horse to fit through.

"They approach from behind," the older man whispered.

"Will there be a fight, Tornac?" the rider questioned quietly.

"No doubt, milord."

The riding, hooded figure nodded discreetly, and then kicked the horse into a faster gait. Through the gates they trotted, hooves thudding softly. The man jogged beside them.

"Prepare yourself, milord." The man did not even bother to keep his voice low. The rider heard the ring of a sword being pulled from a sheath, and knocked an arrow to his bow. He turned in the saddle and peered into the darkness, but soon let out a shout, for he could not see well enough to aim. He replaced the bow and arrow and pulled out his sword.

Five burly warriors were charging toward them, two on mounts. Tornac was rushing to meet them. By the time the cloaked rider reached the fight, one man was already dead. He swung his sword at the closest enemy and made a deep cut across the man's chest. He flinched, and the rider took the chance to finish his adversary off. One horse was now galloping back toward the castle, saddle empty. A pained yell filled the rider's ears and he spun to search the night for his companion. Tornac was bleeding heavily from a wound in his stomach.

"No!" the rider yelled, voice nearly as pained as the dying man.

"Run, Murtagh. Be safe," came the gasping voice of Tornac.

Murtagh turned his horse sharply, and kicked him into a gallop. He spared Tornac one last glance as a single tear dropped from the corner of his eyes and trailed down his cheek.


	3. Tuliver's Departure

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

Author's Note: So sorry it has been this long, but I have been under immense and horrible torture by French courses and school in general. ;) Well, here it is and I hope you like it.

_ I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly  
I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky  
And I'll make a wish  
Take a chance  
Make a change  
And breakaway  
Out of the darkness and into the sun  
But I won't forget all the ones that I love  
I'll take a risk  
Take a chance  
Make a change  
And breakaway_

**"Breakaway" **by Kelly Clarkson 

"No man is left alive save Murtagh, milord," said a thin man after bowing to his king.

"_Only_ Murtagh?" King Galbatorix asked, eyes narrowed.

"Sir Tornac was outnumbered and struck, but did not pass from this world until he had slain all soldiers in his path."

"Bring me Tuliver," the king commanded in a whisper that did not come close to bearing the amount of fury that was burning in his cold heart.

The messenger's eyes widened in fear, but he nodded and bowed nonetheless, then scampered away to fetch the king's mightiest assassin.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Milord." This cloaked figure kneeled before King Galbatorix as he ranted.

"That coward! How dare he run away from me?"

"Milord, he betrayed you, but justice will be served by your will and my sword. He will not escape you again," the woman, Tuliver, said in a low voice.

"He had better not, Tuliver. Do what you must, but bring him to me alive," the king ordered, taking her chin in hand to force her eyes on him. "Or there will be death to pay."

"Yes, milord, failure has never been an option for me. I swear to you, I will enjoy this assignment," Tuliver said, a smirk coming to her lips.

Galbatorix dropped his hand and let out a bark of a laugh. "That is good to hear. Now go."

Tuliver stood and gave a small bow before turning on her heel and leaving the room in quick strides.

Tuliver walked smoothly down the hall, heading to her quarters to make the final preparations for her trip. Murtagh had a head start, but that made no difference. She would catch up to him soon. She gathered her weapons and secured them under her dark and heavy cloak. The assortment added much extra weight, but she was used to it, as was her steed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was around noon when Tuliver and her steed, a large yet agile, dark brown beast named Domia, cantered through the city of Uru'baen. The city was deserted, for word had traveled fast that the king had sent out the dreaded assassin the people called Wyrda, because when Tuliver decided someone was to die, that fate was sealed.

Tuliver followed Murtagh's trail into the night, and set up camp. Throughout the day she had glimpsed him a total of five times, but she stayed back far enough that he would not realize her presence. _Tomorrow_, she thought, _bright and early, I will capture him. _

The Ancient Language

Domia- Dominance

Wyrda- Fate


	4. Murtagh's Plan

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

_Spare a little candle  
Save some light for me  
figures up ahead  
Moving in the trees_

**These Dreams**by Heart

Someone was following him. He did not know whom, and he did not know how close they were, but Murtagh knew the king had sent someone to capture him. HE figured he could stay out of sight long enough to reach a city or town and loose his tracker there. Obviously, he was counting on the tracker being an amateur or perhaps just a small group of soldiers. However, if the unsuspecting young man had an inkling of who was hunting him, he would have deemed escape impossible and would have lost all hope.

"I think we should just head toward the mountains called the Spine. We would have to go through a city, of course, for my plan to work. What do you think, Tornac?" Murtagh questioned. He was talking to his horse, apparently, for, besides the fact that there was no one else around, the man Tornac, who had trained Murtagh, was now dead, murdered trying to help deliver Murtagh from the evil King Galbatorix.

The gray warhorse looked up curiously from the small patch of grass he had been studying for the past fifteen minutes. The handsome creature snorted and bent his long neck back to the grass, which had passed it's inspection and was deemed acceptable.

Murtagh shook his head at his only companion and let a small smile slip upon his face. Regrettably, the content expression soon faded as he realized that the sun would begin to rise at any moment, and he did not want to wait for daylight to leave, for it would be far too easy for him to be found. He wanted another head start.

Murtagh made sure there were no remains of his small fire as he scattered the lifeless coals and burnt wood. He tightened the girth on Tornac and slung the saddle pack back into its place. As he mounted Tornac, he glanced around the area one last time and, when satisfied, kicked the horse into a walk, then trot, and finally a gentle canter, the horse's hooves once again muffled by cloth.

In the quiet of the early morning, he heard almost silent hooves in the distance. Whoever was after him was not far.


	5. Tuliver's Betrayal

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

_How do you like me now?  
How do you like me now,  
Now that I'm on my way?  
Do you still think I'm crazy  
Standin here today?  
_**How Do You Like Me Now** By TOBY KEITH

"And there he goes," Tuliver whispered to herself. She froze. They were barely audible, but they were there: the soft thudding of hooves. _Who could that be? Has Galbatorix sent me backup? I hope not. The soldiers need not be slaughtered. But what if they are sent to help?_ The thoughts were chaotic so she simply closed her eyes to wait and decide.

She heard the man behind her before he spoke. "Master Tuliver?" He spoke uncertainly.

"Perhaps," she hissed. "And what are you doing here, Captain Morgessy?" She knew all the war leaders. She was one of them.

"You have not been sent alone. King Galbatorix ordered me to follow you just hours after you left. He thought you might want some backup," Morgessy replied.

"I do not need backup," Tuliver commented, frowning slightly. It would be a pity losing him. He was one of the more likeable ones. In one simple and graceful movement, her dagger was digging deep into the man's stomach, only to be tugged out. "Are you alone?"

The shocked man nodded.

"Sorry, old friend, but this is how it has to be," she whispered, slitting his throat to end his suffering. "Goodbye."

It was done. She had committed a crime against the king. She was officially a traitor to the crown. Tuliver smirked as she leaped onto the back of her large horse and rode after her quarry. The great and powerful King Galbatorix did not even realize his end was coming.


	6. Collision

Disclaimer: I do not own Eragon.

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please, PLEASE keep reviewing!! ;)

_--- --- ---_

_I want to swim away but don't know how_

_Sometimes it feels just like I'm falling in the ocean_

_Let the waves up take me down_

_Let the hurricane set in motion… yeah_

_Let the rain of what I feel right now… come down_

_Let the rain come down_

_Into the Ocean By Blue October_

He is coming. That was the only thought running through Murtagh's mind as he hid among the leaves of a young, yet sturdy tree. This desperate trap was his last chance of survival. All he had to do was stay calm and wait for the moment his tracker's horse rode directly beneath him…

Murtagh carried this plan out perfectly, and drew his large knife from its sheath, before dropping from his hiding place. But something blurred with speed flew past him and disarmed him as it went. When Murtagh landed on the horse, the beast bolted, turned, and ran back under the tree. There was a soft thud behind him and a pair of strong arms reached around him to grasp the reins. His captor unexpectedly pulled the horse to a halt and leapt off. Murtagh quickly did the same and spun to face… her.

She was tall; almost as tall as Murtagh himself. She had milky brown hair that barely touched her shoulders and piercing hazel eyes. She was not exceedingly beautiful; she held more nobility than prettiness, holding her head high and back straight. She was also a somewhat frightful sight, dressed in gray men's clothes, wearing a belt laden with weaponry of the shiny sort. A small, victorious smile added to the scary appearance, along with the blood staining her tunic. It was decidedly not her own.

She bowed extravagantly as Murtagh drew his sword. "It is a pleasure, Murtagh, to finally meet you."

"The villagers, they call you 'fate'. They say you are kindest before you murder your victims. As my last wish, spare me the lies and let me fight to my end."

Tuliver laughed, genuinely amused, and Murtagh was momentarily confused, for the sound was musical, and in no way matched her rather low voice. "I have no intention of killing you. That would be a bit of a waste, seeing as I have spent so much time and energy saving you."

"P-pardon? Saving me?" Murtagh was sure he was dreamin by this point. "You are King Galbatorix's most prized assassin. You have been hunting me since I escaped."

"Tracking, Murtagh. I've been tracking you. Do you honestly think you would still be alive if I wanted you dead?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Now put your sword away and follow me." She turned and walked briskly into the cover the trees provided.

Murtagh stood alone for over a minute, emotions and thoughts racing for superiority over each other. He sighed, realizing he had no choice. He had to follow her, or risk tempting her infamous fury.


End file.
